The Tales of Skyrim's Mightiest Heroes
by WolFang1011
Summary: Adventuring isn't easy and, sometimes, you need help. Through the trials and tribulations you face on the road, slowly, your friends become your family. They would know. Witness the formation and evolution of the greatest band of adventurers that fair Skyrim has ever seen and come along with them on their wacky adventures.
1. Chapter 1

"You're going to do it, then?"

Erandur nodded. "My mind is made up."

Taking a deep breath, Maramal blew it out of his nose. He said nothing. Erandur knew he was concerned. It was understandable. Had their roles been reversed, he would've been the same way.

His desire to visit the Temple of Mara was an old one. A very old one. In his many imaginings, the place had always been a refuge from his guilt. A place of peace. Where his nightmares had no sway. Now, as he sat in one of the pews before the Lady of Love herself, he felt… calm.

It was odd. In a city like Riften, where scum ruled the streets, how could there exist a place of such remarkable spirit? The temple was like a sole lotus in a eutrophicated pond. After months of corresponding with the priest, whom he now considered a friend, Erandur had finally gathered up the courage to pay a visit.

Maramal had done good work. He led a hard life, and was respected, if not loved, by the citizens. Dinya, his wife, was a dunmer. To find one of his people in Skyrim was always a pleasure, but to meet someone in service to Mara was even better. The month he'd spent at the temple, working with them, had been the best time he'd had in a long while.

But now, it was time to take care of work elsewhere.

"I like to have a quiet moment at the end of the day," Maramal said suddenly, jerking his chin towards the shrine. "Just me and her."

Chuckling, Erandur gazed at her as well. "Maybe you could put a word in for me, then."

"I don't have to." There was a smile in his voice. "She cares about us. All of us. She listens, she knows, she understands. There is only acceptance here. She took you into her bosom knowing everything, and now," he turned towards him, "she sends you to correct sins past. You have her blessing, Erandur. You've always had it."

Erandur nodded. "I've always felt a great deal of guilt running from Nightcaller Temple and leaving my friends to die. I'll never forgive myself for that." He paused to sigh. "But maybe she can."

"Many people ask for it. I listen to them every day." Maramal shook his head slightly. "But you're actively working towards earning it, my friend. The Divines help those who help themselves. Take a step-"

"-and the universe will meet you halfway." Erandur smiled and rose to his feet. "Here's to hoping. I daresay I'll need it."

"Leaving?"

"Yes." Erandur stepped out of the pew and shouldered his knapsack. Then he picked up his staff and held his hand out to Maramal. "Best not to waste time when a decision has been made."

The redguard shook his hand firmly. "Then go with the favour of Mara. You know better than anyone how Vaermina works, but still. Be careful."

"I will."

"And come back once you're done. We'll always have a place for you."

Erandur chuckled. Grateful as he was for the offer, he wasn't sure it'd come to fruition. Vaermina was a potent Daedric prince. To challenge her alone was folly. Unlikely to end well. But some things had to be done despite the danger. Despite the cost.

"Where's Dinya?" he asked and looked around, changing the subject. "I wanted to say goodbye to her before going."

"The khajiit caravans have arrived, so she went to buy incense. They've been delayed for weeks and we've run short." Maramal sighed again. "I keep telling her to not exert herself, especially in her condition, but she never listens."

The dunmer priestess had once been an adventurer. Though she'd settled down, her spirit remained unchained. Erandur hid his amusement as best he could and said, "If Irun into her, I'll make sure she comes straight back."

"I'd appreciate that."

"You worry too much. Let her have these simple freedoms. In a few months, she'll be too encumbered to move properly."

"I know. I know." Another sigh from the redguard. "I just worry."

"It's in your nature and we love you for it." With a nod and a smile, Erandur turned to leave. "Thank you for your hospitality, Maramal. You'll be in my prayers."

"And you'll be in ours. May Lady Mara watch over you."

"May She watch over us all."

* * *

Ahkari, with hands on her hips, said, "Seventy."

"Forty," the priestess replied, arms crossed over her chest.

"Sixty-five."

"Forty."

"Sixty."

"Forty."

"Fifty-five."

"Forty-five."

Ahkari held out her hand. "Fifty."

The priestess took it. "Fifty."

"By the whiskers of Alkosh," Dro'Marash said amusedly. "This is like watching a duel."

Kharjo snorted. "She likes handling the business. Let her have fun."

"Negotiating is still not her strong suit." The older khajiit watched as the women shook hands. "Then again, the priestess _is_ a return customer. And we _have_ kept her waiting."

"Uh-huh. But the lesser we make, the smaller our cuts," Khrajo replied and returned to packing up his tent. "I'm all out of cash."

"If you hadn't bought that axe, maybe you wouldn't be broke."

Kharjo looked lovingly at his new, two-handed axe and smiled widely. "I am khajiit, _dro_. I like shiny things."

"No, _ma_." Dro'Marash playfully smacked him behind the head. "You just have no impulse control."

"And _you_ are just jealous."

"That I am. It's a good axe. Shame it left you broke, though."

Kharjo didn't reply. It was a good buy, and everyone knew it. He loved his newest acquisition. Buying something with hard-earned gold was a feeling like no other. Dro'Marash himself had recently bought a new suit of plate. A whole suit! Armour was expensive! What was an axe in comparison?

Of course, a thousand Septims wasn't _cheap_. But the axe more than made up for it. It was exquisitely made by an orcish smith using nord steel. The best of both worlds. And it was enchanted, to boot! It didn't even need recharging. The runic battle axe was a monster, or so he'd been told.

While khajiit weren't allowed to enter cities, their services were indispensible to the wise. And the Dawnguard were wise. Given the seclusion of the fortress, theirs was the only caravan willing to do business with the vampire hunters. They provided what the hunters wanted. In exchange, they got vampire repellents and discounts on Dawnguard gear. It was a fair bargain. He couldn't have afforded the axe otherwise.

But, their two days at Riften were up. It was time to move again, back to Dawnstar. The khajiit trade caravan was always moving, always ready for business. It was never dull, though Kharjo often wished the route would offer more natural diversity. The Nordlands were all snow and mud and cold. It got very tiresome very fast.

"New customer," Dro'Masrash said and Kharjo glanced up. It was another dunmer priest. At least, he wore the same orange robes. He spoke briefly with the woman and embraced her before she walked back to the city. The new one had a knapsack on his shoulder, and a mage's staff in his hand.

_Ready for travel. Leaving Riften, then._

"Salutations," said the dunmer. He almost sounded cheerful. Kharjo had never heard a dunmer be cheerful. "Your caravan travels from Riften to Dawnstar, yes?"

"That's right," Ahkari replied. "Are you in need of anything, stranger?"

"Yes, actually. You see, I'm headed to Dawnstar myself, and the roads are treacherous." He smiled. "I was wondering if I could join you. I'll pay for food, of course."

Ahkari considered this, but ended up accepting. Having a mage had its advantages, even for a one-way trip. For some food, it was a bargain. Kharjo observed the newcomer carefully as he deposited his tent inside the caravan. He didn't look like a crook. And the priestess knew him, so that was a good thing. When he caught Kharjo's gaze, the elf smiled and nodded. He nodded in turn, though doubts remained in his mind.

_Please, Alkosh, let this not bring any trouble with it._


	2. Chapter 2

The girl's injuries were severe. She'd taken a nasty spill in the mine. Fractured pelvis. Bruised spine. Erandur didn't know whether it was by luck or design that the khajiit caravan had arrived at Shor's Stone when it did. Any later, and the girl could have been crippled for life. Worse yet, paralysed.

As it was, Sylgja had suffered for two days. The pain must've been excruciating. _Poor girl_. With a sigh, Erandur placed the back of his hand on the sleeping girl's forehead. The fever had lessened. _Good_.

The girl was a fighter. Even amongst nords, she was one of the strongest he'd seen. Not all strength translated to wielding axes.

But there was nothing more he could do for her until she woke up. Hopefully, sometime soon. The caravan wouldn't stay halted for long.

Erandur rose from the chair, and, quietly as he could, left the girl's house. Outside, he was greeted by the midday sun. It was a rarity in Skyrim, and before he could look up, it had disappeared behind the clouds. Erandur chuckled.

_How in-character._

He found Filnjar, the blacksmith, talking to Dro'Marash, one of the caravan guards, and walked up to them. The nord rounded upon him as soon he neared.

"Well?" he asked, talking fast. "Is she, I mean, is she-"

"She's sleeping soundly," Erandur replied with a smile. "She'll wake up before the day is out." _Hopefully_. "She'll need complete rest, though. I'll make a potion to suppress the pain after she wakes up." He paused. "If there is any."

The elderly man closed his eyes and muttered a quick prayer. Then he smiled broadly and took Erandur's hands for a thorough shake. "Thank you. I know the girl's folks. I mean, she's been like family since she was a wee little ankle-biter. I couldn't forgive myself if-"

Erandur placed his hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed. "She'll be in my prayers. I'll be here to make sure she pulls through."

"You know, in all my years, I never thought I'd see something like this," the man said. "I mean, everybody in Skyrim helps themselves. I respect that. But I never asked for your help." He looked at Dro'Marash. "Both of you. Yet you helped. I don't know how to-"

The khajiit chuckled. "The gold works just fine for us."

"Of course, of course! I mean, stick around and I'll see what I can scrounge up! You've put us back in business!"

With that, he nigh ran up the steps to his house. Erandur looked at Dro'Marash. "You cleared out the mine?"

"It's just spooders," he replied with a shrug. "Nothing Kharjo and I can't handle. The new kid helped out, too."

"You didn't get hurt, right?"

"Neh. Been squashing spooders since I was a kit. Although Kharjo took a bump."

"What happened?"

"One of the spooders jumped on him. I'd appreciate it if-"

"Where is he?"

"Resting inside."

With a nod, Erandur set off towards the caravan. He found Kharjo leaning back against a wall, topless, holding a chunk of ice wrapped in cloth to his ribs. He seemed unhurt otherwise.

The inside of the caravan was crowded with goods, but there was room enough from at least three people to sleep inside. Erandur moved a few things aside and sat down across from him.

"Careful," Kharjo said, "Don't break the jar."

At his words, Erandur noticed a glass jar with a dragonfly inside by his knee. He pushed it away delicately. "Is that for sale?"

"No. That's Inigo's pet. Mister Dragonfly."

Erandur stared at the jar for a long moment. Inigo was a dark-furred khajiit and the latest addition the caravan. He seemed like an able warrior. _Everyone needs something, I suppose_. He turned back to Kharjo. "What happened?"

"Ehh. Accident." The khajiit shrugged slightly. "You would think that with those heavy exoskeletons, the overgrown buggers wouldn't be able to breathe, much less jump." His mouth twisted. "They sure proved me wrong."

"Did you get bitten?"

"No. Plate armour is very good against stabs and cuts. But concussive force travels through." He waved with his free hand. "This is nothing."

"Well, if it's insignificant, a Restoration spell will cure it in a few minutes."

Kharjo gave this some thought before nodding. He put aside the cloth wrapped block of and Erandur slid closer. The wet patch of fur was visible, and he covered it with his right hand. White light radiated from his palm and Erandur pushed it tightly against Kharjo's ribs.

"How is the nord woman?" the khajiit asked after relaxing into it.

Erandur hummed. "Do you know how Restoration works, Kharjo?"

"No."

"Hmm. You know how your body heals itself? From cuts and scrapes to broken bones?" Kharjo nodded. "Restoration magick merely amplifies the body's self-healing process. I'm helping you help yourself. The more your will to live, the better it works." He smiled. "And Sylgja has a warrior's will."

"I am glad," Kharjo said. "But then, does it not require skill on your end?"

"Yes. You see, Restoration is the exact opposite of Destruction. To throw fireballs, you have to let your magicka explode. It's a skill, no doubt. For Restoration, you have to be very careful how much magicka you expend. Especially hard for those with a big magicka pool. Those with a smaller pool find it easier."

"Like a mammoth stepping on an ant and trying not to crush it?"

Erandur chuckled. "Exactly. Easier to do if you're a mongoose. Or a rat."

"I understand now. Magick is hard."

"So is training with weapons. I could never do what you do." Erandur pulled his hand away. "Better?"

Kharjo sat up straight and rotated his left shoulder. Then he placed his left hand on his waist and stretched. After that, he turned at the waist left and right. Finally, he grunted.

"I don't feel a thing."

"Good." Erandur sat down across from him. "I'm glad."

As Kharjo slipped on his tunic, Dro'Marash poked his head inside the caravan and told them that the miners wanted them to stay the night. There would be a feast. Ahkari hadn't refused.

"Oh and here." He threw Kharjo a coin purse. "Your cut. Try not to spend it on the next shiny thing you see."

Kharjo hissed at that, but Erandur could only grin. He had chosen a good band to travel with. Their bond was like family. The thought made him sigh.

Closing his eyes, Erandur leant his head back against the wall. He had put his family to sleep a long time ago. Now, he had to put them to rest.

_I hope I'll have the strength. Lady Mara, help me._


	3. Chapter 3

"Why do you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you so bent on helping everyone?" Kharjo asked. "You healed the girl. Then she asked you to deliver letters to her parents. You accepted. Now, you are looking for a lost argonian." He shook his head. "There is more to this than just being a priest, no?"

Erandur hummed. "Why do _you_ do it?"

"Ehh?"

"Guard the caravan?"

"Ah. I have no choice there, my friend. Ahkari got me out of jail, and now I must pay off my debt to her." He glanced back over his shoulder. "And now she has bailed out Inigo. I believe this is her hobby."

The small settlement of Darkwater Crossing had nigh disappeared from sight. It wasn't a usual stop for their caravan, but Erandur had convinced Ahkari to make one regardless. Gold worked where words failed. Why the priest was so keen to part with his money, Kharjo didn't understand. Especially for people he barely knew.

"We all have a choice, Kharjo," Erandur said. "We're choosing all the time. You made a choice to buy your axe. You made a choice to accompany me now."

"I figured there would be a reward. I need the gold."

"Not all rewards are gold."

Kharjo didn't reply. Priests were all the same. They spoke in riddles and expected everyone to understand. Not that it mattered. At the end of the day, the most important thing for him was having a full purse. Ahkari paid him, sure, but it wasn't enough. Not enough to pay off his debt.

He slowed upon nearing the waterfall. Getting water on plate armour was a bad idea. Rust was a real problem. _The dumb lizard just _had_ to go swimming_. He sighed. _How does one even get kidnapped while fishing? I should not have come. This idiot is not worth it._

This feeling solidified when Erandur discovered the entrance to a crypt. While Kharjo had no problem smelling the lizard, he also smelt falmer and chaurus and stinky water. Lots of stinky water.

"I am not going down there," he announced, much to Erandur's surprise. "Too much water."

"Ah. Your armour will rust." He nodded to himself. "I understand. I believe I can help with that."

Before a question left Kharjo's mouth, the priest had cast his spell. He had to shield his eyes from the sudden glare, and when he looked again, he found his armour aglow with a faint purple light.

"What… what did you do?"

"A simple water walking spell," Erandur replied, his lips curled. "Your armour will repel water now. And yes, you'll be able to walk on water."

Kharjo gaped at the dunmer. Then down at himself. "Really?"

"Really." He pointed at the stream by the path. "Go ahead. Try."

Facing the water, Kharjo gulped. He was khajiit. This went against every instinct in his body. Water was not a cat's friend. Everybody knew this. Unfortunately, curiosity was _very much_ a cat's friend. As his instincts battled inside his mind, Kharjo stared at his greatest foe. Was it possible? To never get wet again?

_Only one way to find out._

Nearing the edge of the water, he very carefully dipped the tip of his sabaton into it. It didn't dip. Instead, it felt like stepping on something. Even more curious, Kharjo placed his foot on the flowing water… and found himself able to stand upright.

_Standing. On water. While it's flowing. What._

He placed his other foot on the surface. Then he hopped and jumped. And ran. _This is amazing!_ He turned to Erandur. "I can see the fishes! Fishes!"

The priest chuckled. "Come back before the spell wears off."

Kharjo leapt out of the water instantly. "Not permanent, then?"

"No. It works for sixty seconds at a time. It's an easy enough spell, though. I can teach you, if you like."

"Yes. Good." It was the easiest choice he'd ever made in his life. "This is useful."

"Help me extract the argonian, and I will."

_Not all rewards are gold_. Kharjo chuckled. "Fine." He hefted his axe. "It is probably very cramped inside, so I will be unable to swing this big battleaxe. I can still use it like a spear. Hold it out in front of me." He demonstrated. "Keep the nasties at a distance. You can magick them over my shoulder?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Khajiit will take point because I can see in the dark." He made for the entrance to the crypt. "Cast your water spell, please. It gives me confidence."

He heard Erandur chuckling behind him, but Kharjo didn't care. He would rescue this fool lizard and never have to bathe again!

_Ah, I am beginning to like magick!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you. For saving me, I mean. I suppose that's obvious, though."

The dunmer priest's look of surprise melted into a smile. He shook his head and said, "No need to thank me, my son. How are you feeling now?"

Derkeethus, unsure of how to respond, bowed his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

With a nod, the dunmer gestured for him to sit. So he did. Darkwater Crossing wasn't a very big village. Not even that. A small mining camp. They didn't even have an inn for visitors to stay at. The priest had made a campfire for himself, with a stump of a tree serving as a chair. Derkeethus sat on the ground, cross-legged. The night was cold and he shifted closer to the fire.

"Have you had supper?"

"Yes."

"Is your body functioning properly? Nothing hurt?"

"No. I had a fever, or so Annekke tells me." He glanced up at the dunmer. "They say you went looking for me as soon as you heard."

The elf shrugged. "I heard someone had disappeared. I volunteered to help. It was Kharjo who found you, though. He's a khajiit. Sharp nose. He carried you back."

"I see." Derkeethus intertwined his fingers. "I owe you both my life."

"If you don't mind me asking, Derkeethus – that _is_ your name, right?"

"Yeah."

"How did you, uh-"

"Get kidnapped while fishing?" he chuckled quietly. "I wasn't fishing, exactly."

"Then?"

Derkeethus didn't reply immediately. He remembered full well why he'd gone swimming all the way to falls. But sharing it… people might not understand.

"Please don't laugh," he said quietly. In response, the priest put his bowl down on the ground and placed a hand on his shoulder. Derkeethus saw him smiling.

"I'm a priest of Mara, son," he said. "I listen. I try to understand. No motivating factor is insignificant or unimportant if it spurred you into action. So, if you want to tell me, you can."

Derkeethus gaped wordlessly at the priest. No motivator was insignificant? That wasn't something he'd heard an awful lot. _Something priests say, I suppose_. He smiled at the thought.

"I was born here in Skyrim," he began. "I came here to work maybe… two years ago. Mining wasn't my first choice. I needed money, though. And this was my first job." He gazed into the fire. "I always told myself that I would save up the gold and leave. Pursue my dreams. I never did." Flipping his palms, Derkeethus chuckled. "I liked the security of having gold, I suppose."

The priest hummed to himself. "The people here like you. Especially the child."

"Hrefna. Yes. I take her fishing sometimes. Good kid." Derkeethus smiled to himself. "Yeah. They're all good people here. Made it hard to leave, I guess."

"Leave and do what?"

"I wanted to be an adventurer," Derkeethus admitted. It sounded stupid even to him. "Ever since I was little, it's what I wanted to do. Travel and explore. See new things. Just… have unforgettable experiences." He looked up at the priest. "You know?"

To his credit, the dunmer didn't laugh. He didn't say anything. He sat staring into the fire himself, stroking his beard. Derkeethus noticed that there was a faraway look in his eyes. His mind had taken him elsewhere, perhaps to a distant and unforgettable experience of his own. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"I _do_ know," he said and Derkeethus leaned in. "I know very well. But it isn't a life for everybody. Are you certain it's what you want to do?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation, eh?"

Derkeethus shook his head. "I love this place. I do. I really, _really_ do. But I don't want to be a miner for all my life. It's why I swam all the way to waterfall, and then into the ruins." He looked the dunmer in the eye. "I didn't go fishing. I went to _explore_. I went to have an _adventure_. It calls to me. The prospect of finding and learning something excites me so much that I don't know what to do with myself. Yes, I got taken by the Falmer, maybe I would've died if not for you two, but I would've died with no regrets." He lowered his gaze. "I can't say the same if I stay here."

Silence. The dunmer didn't speak, and neither did he. The crackling embers, the song of the grasshoppers and the flowing river took over for them.

A fool's dream. That's what it was. Derkeethus knew that no sane person would trade job security for a life of wandering. Everyone would say to not do it. And maybe they were right.

_But what's the point of sitting on a pile of gold if I've got no use for it?_

Sighing, Derkeethus closed his eyes. From the sound of clinking, he figured that the elf had returned to his meal. It was late. _I should let him eat in peace_. In the morning, he would thank the khajiit. After that… who knew what lay in store.

"Come with me, then."

Derkeethus was about to get up, but those words arrested his movement, as well as his attention. All too soon, he found himself staring at the smiling face of the priest again.

"What?"

"I am on my way to Dawnstar from Riften. The khajiit caravan has graciously decided to let me tag along. I only came to Darkwater Crossing because a young lady in Shor's Stone, whom I healed, asked me to deliver some letters to her parents here. I couldn't refuse." The priest put the bowl to his lips and drank down the soup. "My work in Dawnstar… I might require assistance. I don't know if I can pay you, but you might see something new."

"I…" _What do I even say here?_ "You…"

"There might be some danger, though. Can you handle it?"

"Absolutely!" Derkeethus turned around to face the priest fully. "I've been doing physical work for a long time! I'm s-strong!" How often did opportunity come knocking like this? "Mining has made my arms strong! It makes it easy for me to handle bows!" A fool's dream though it may be, he would be a fool indeed if he let such a golden opportunity go. "I-I'm a decent archer! I practice every day for two hours after finishing at the mine! I can also defend myself with a knife!"

Bowing at the waist, Derkeethus squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped the priest wouldn't be able to see the teardrops on the ground, or pay much heed to his cracking voice.

"Thank you for showing faith in me!" he announced through his sniffling. "I'm quite useless, but I'm a hard worker! I'll try my b-best to not be a burden! I swear!"

He couldn't stop his tears. It wasn't a great first impression. He knew it. But he meant every word. Enthusiasm was all he had.

"Chin up, Derkeethus," came the priest's voice and he obeyed. There was still a smile on his face. "You're not useless. Just inexperienced. And that means you can only get better and better." He held out his hand. "I am Erandur. I'm your friend, Derkeethus. Don't bow."

Taking the outstretched hand in both of his, Derkeethus placed it against his forehead and closed his eyes again.

"My friend," he muttered, "I won't let you down." Then he took a deep breath and looked up, smiling. "To Oblivion and back, as they say."


	5. Chapter 5

"Kharjo, I love your axe! It's just? So shiny? And the _runes_! What do they mean? What do they say? Can you read them? What do they do? Do they glow in the dark?"

The khajiit closed his eyes. He smelled a crushing defeat under the weight of all the dumbass questions on the horizon. Knowing he had no choice, he succumbed to it, and felt a strange sense of peace spread over him. It was like the great tree of enlightenment had unfurled its canopy and absorbed him into the shade of inner peace.

_Ah, if I concentrate, I can almost ignore it. It's like he isn't there at all. It's almost as if he's an annoying little botfly, fluttering about._

The caravan had stopped at Whiterun. All the caravans converged with Ri'saad's every month to discuss policies and exchange news. Ahkari and Ma'dran were in Ri'saad's tent then. Had been for many hours. Their meetings usually didn't take so long. They'd been at it after breakfast ended and it was past lunch time now. Something serious must have happened.

Kharjo glanced at Ri'saad's tent. He considered eavesdropping but quickly reconsidered. If it was _really_ important, Ahkari would tell them soon enough.

Before he could form another thought, his vision was obstructed by Derkeethus, who stood right before him. Kharjo glanced up, unimpressed, and found the lizard grinning.

"What?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you'd tell me about your axe?"

Kharjo sighed and leaned back against the tree he was sitting under. "Why don't you go take a walk through the town, hmm?"

"Oh, I did!" Derkeethus plopped down beside him. "See, I've never been inside a big city before! There were so many people! Erandur went with me and showed me stuff. The markets, Kharjo! Fruits! Vegetables! Meat!" His eyes practically shone. "The Companions live under an upturned boat, the Gildergreen is renewing itself and the priestess is the best healer Skyrim has right now! Who would've thought, eh? Not one person in all the College can match a priestess!"

"Uh-huh." Kharjo shifted away slightly. Being around too much exuberance was bad for the soul. "I'm glad you enjoyed your little jaunt."

"And the palace! It was beautiful!" Derkeethus went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Didn't go up to it, and there was an annoying man who asked if I'd been to the Cloud District, but it was still a spectacle." He sighed. "Too bad you're not allowed inside. I think you'd really enjoy it."

"Yeah. Too bad." Kharjo lifted the axe from his lap and stood it up against the tree, looking around. "Where _is_ Erandur?"

"Still at the temple. He had to talk to the priestess about something."

"Mmmm."

"So about your axe." Kharjo groaned. "What does it _do_?"

He considered asking the lizard to go away, to leave him in peace, but Erandur, beacon of hope as he was, appeared at his aid just then.

"Meeting still going on, I see," he remarked, stroking his beard. "Must be something serious."

"Must be," Kharjo replied. "How was your walk?"

"Oh, splendid. I'd always wanted to visit Whiterun, but somehow I never managed it. It's an amazing city." He nodded to himself, smiling. "A jewel."

Derkeethus looked around. "Are we going to stay the night here? Because I'd really like to."

"I doubt it," Kharjo told him. "We have never stayed on at Whiterun. Don't see why that will change."

"Where do we go from here, then?" came Derkeethus's next question. Kharjo stared at him. The lizard sat with his legs folded, swaying to and fro with a big smile on his face. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Like a child on his first adventure.

"Is this the first time you're out adventuring?" Kharjo asked him.

"Yep!"

"Uh-huh." He turned towards Erandur. "You should have picked someone with more skill as a partner."

"Hey!"

Erandur smiled. "Everyone starts somewhere."

"Yeah, that's right!" Derkeethus crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm an excellent archer, just so you know. I can hit a coin dead-centre from a hundred yards."

Kharjo shrugged. "Good for you. And we'll be moving onto the Pale. That's where he," he pointed at Erandur, "has to go, and we have to do business."

"It'll be cold, huh." Derkeethus looked down at his tunic. "I should get a cloak before we go north."

"You realise you are travelling with traders and merchants, yes?"

"I know, but I'm saving money for some proper armour." Kharjo nodded. _Wise decision._ "I suppose I could go work at one of the farms for as long as we're here…"

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"The nords in cities… they are not as… how to say…" Kharjo clicked his fingers, "_accepting_ as they are in smaller settlements. There, they have no choice and rely on you and trust builds naturally. Here, they _do_ have a choice, and when nords have a choice, they generally want you nowhere near."

Derkeethus glanced at Erandur, who hiked his shoulders resignedly. "I really can't disagree. My own people are no less xenophobic and racist. After eons of violence and bloodshed, you can't help it, I suppose."

"I guess." Derkeethus sighed, deflated. "That's sad. And disappointing. They don't even let you work on the fields?"

"In some parts, they don't even want to look at your face." Erandur pulled his hood back and placed his hands on his hips. "All races have a history of this. It's not just the nords."

"Ulfric didn't help matters." Kharjo spat. "_Chinkarkeele_."

Derkeethus blinked. "What?"

Kharjo shook his head. "A bad word. Not something little lizards should know."

"Hey, I know bad words!"

"Shame on you, then. Erandur, cleanse his soul."

The priest laughed heartily. "Come, let's not ruin this beautiful afternoon with talk of politics. It's over and done with. Kharjo, will lunch be served soon?"

"No idea. It all depends on them." He gestured towards Ri'saad's tent. "Nobody eats until the elder is done."

"Well, if you're hungry, we could bring something from the inn for you."

It was a good offer, and Kharjo considered it. There was no rule against eating food brought to you by others. It wasn't food meant for the elders, and he _was_ hungry. Breakfast had been a _long_ time ago.

"I would like that."

Derkeehtus clapped his hands. "Why don't you come with us? Don't you think it'll be fun to just walk in and watch the racist ones panic?"

"No."

"Oh, c'mon! It'll be fun!"

"No."

"Chicken."

Kharjo had a nice, well thought out response ready, but he stopped himself when Ahkari and Ma'dran shuffled out of Ri'saad's tent. He sat up straight and Ahkari spotted him immediately. She came up to him and, solemnly, said, "We'll be here for… a while. Something's come up."

"What happened?" Erandur asked. "Any way we can help?"

Ahkari shook her head. "It's an internal matter. You can stay with us if you like, but I'd suggest you go on to Dawnstar yourself. We wouldn't detain you any longer." She glanced at Kharjo. "Come talk to me later."

Then she turned and walked away towards her caravan. Kharjo watched her go. As much as he wanted to find out what was going on, he thought it best to give her some time before prodding.

"So…" Derkeethus began, "are we still going for lunch?"

"No," Kharjo replied. "They will serve it here. You can go if you want."

"We'll stay," Erandur reassured him. "We like the food here."

"Yeah, but I wanted to drop by the city again."

"Why is that?"

When there wasn't an answer, Kharjo looked at the lizard. Found him grinning wider than before.

"I have an idea," said Derkeethus, chest puffed out.

Kharjo knew immediately that nothing good would come out of it.


End file.
